e to card its nice black wool, and
we will spin it into long threads. I shall then weave a thick cloth,
which will make me a warm winter cloak."

Chewannick stood with wide-open eyes understanding by Elizabeth's motions
much of what she was telling him. Together they made the little creature
a comfortable bed in the big yard outside the cabin.

It was most necessary to have the high fence built about the house to
protect the garden from foxes and other prowling creatures, and to keep
the wolves and the bears away from the cattle and sheep at night. Through
the day, the gate stood open. The cows and sheep wandered off to the
marsh grass, and the children came and went as they wished, but before
the sun went down, every creature was driven home, and the children were
safely inside when the gate was barred. When Elizabeth petted her little
black lamb at night, she could hear the howl of the wolves through the
woods and often the growl of a bear just outside the enclosure.

One day when the children were outside the palisade, Chewannick attempted
to climb it. Elizabeth laughed and declared he could not do it. He then
fastened a prop between the closely planted posts and tried again, but he
could not spring with enough force to get over. Again and again on
succeeding days he tried, determined at every failure to reach the top
some day.

Late one afternoon as the cows came wandering in at their usual hour, the
children watched the sheep huddle together. Elizabeth noticed that the
little black lamb was not with them.

"And the sheep came from the woods, not the marsh," she added after her
first word of surprise.

"Come, Chewannick, we must find my lamb!"

Unnoticed by her mother, who was busy in the yard, Elizabeth led the
Indian boy over the well trodden path to the woods. Already the sun had
dropped, but on and on the children went until they paused to listen.
From the far-distance came a faint cry like that of a child.

"It is my precious, black woolly lamb!" cried Elizabeth, frantically. "It
is in the thorn bushes!"

Farther still they pushed into the woods, hardly noticing how dark the
shadows were growing. The cry seemed close at hand.

"Yes, here's my darling lamb!" Elizabeth tugged at the poor little thing,
caught by its woolly fleece in the long sharp thorns of a bush.

"Help, Chewannick, pull hard!"

Great tufts of black wool were left on the bush, but the frightened
little creature was freed at last.